


seven minutes with beca

by tmylm



Series: seven minutes [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Halloween, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21049919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: For the Tumblr prompt: Bechloe goes to a Halloween party where their friends decide to be nostalgic and play seven minutes in heaven, Beca and Chloe have to go first.





	seven minutes with beca

“Go on, say it,” Amy prompts in a somewhat disinterested tone.

(Where she even came from is lost on Beca—she was standing alone not five seconds ago.)

“Say what?”

“You don’t like Halloween.”

Dark brows tug together, with Beca turning to look at her… friend? Is that what Amy is now? Honestly, Beca is still trying to feel out this whole a cappella group thing. She doesn’t _hate_ it, at least not as much as she would lead everybody to believe, but she is still a member against her will, still trying to appease her father long enough to land that one-way ticket out to LA. Beca has always been kind of a loner, so all of these parties, these gatherings, they’re really not her thing.

“Come on, Beca. You never look like you’re having any fun.”

Beca suppresses an unamused eye-roll in response. “I do have fun. And I don’t dislike Halloween, I guess I just don’t get the whole costume thing.”

Amy makes no subtlety out of the way she eyes Beca’s outfit. To her credit, the disapproving look is kind of warranted—Beca is currently dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans (nothing out of the ordinary for her), paired with a white tee displaying a cartoon looking ghost right the way across the front. The ensemble cannot even be considered a costume, much less a creative one. In fact, the flannel tied loosely around Beca’s waist really just makes it a regular, day-to-day outfit.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Amy teases dryly, though she tilts her head slightly to the side, and Beca notes an almost sympathetic look creeping onto her features. “You know, it’s even less fun when you’re not getting stuck in there. Brooding on the sidelines might make you look cool, but I bet you’re bored, aren’t you?”

“You think I look cool?”

Amy’s brows raise at that, gaze darting quickly in the opposite direction. “Uh, sure…”

This time, Beca doesn’t even attempt to hold back the blatant roll of her eyes in response. And if she had, it’d only last a second or two, because one of her least favorite voices is soon cutting into their conversation. It is all Beca can do not to audibly groan.

“Amy, Beca, what are you doing all the way over here?” Aubrey’s voice is much too chipper, her costume of course entirely too well thought out. “This is a mixer, we’re supposed to be mixing.”

“I thought it was a Halloween party?” Beca responds with an arched brow.

“It’s a Halloween _mixer_,” Aubrey retorts, eyes narrowing in on Beca’s face. Aubrey proceeds to straighten up some, neatly styled blonde hair sweeping across her shoulders. “If you don’t want to act like a member of the group, you don’t have to be here, Beca.”

There is a hint of venom behind the way Aubrey says Beca’s name. If Beca cared about Aubrey’s opinion at all, it might annoy her, but all it does is amuse her, though she holds back her smirk. Beca knows she has a way of getting entirely under Aubrey’s skin; it has been an ongoing thing ever since Beca joined the Bellas, in fact. Despite Aubrey’s words, Beca knows that nothing would make her happier than if she was to walk out and leave them to it. Maybe it’s childish, but it is that thought that has Beca shooting Aubrey a very obviously forced smile, before striding by her and toward the majority of the group.

No, Beca doesn’t really want to be here, but any excuse to piss Aubrey Posen off, right?

“Beca!” Although the next voice is also way too cheerful—even more so than Aubrey’s had been—it doesn’t quite cause Beca’s jaw to lock the way Aubrey’s does. This voice doesn’t grate on her in the same way. If anything, the enthusiasm just makes her jump a little bit, though pale fingers are suddenly lacing through her own. Beca doesn’t even have the time to process much before Chloe is leaning in much too closely, the tip of her nose practically touching Beca’s. “I thought I saw you earlier,” Chloe drawls somewhat dreamily—a telltale sign that she has been drinking for a little while already. “Where have you been hiding?”

Although Beca shoots Chloe a somewhat judgmental look, she cannot hide the hint of amusement that graces her features. Beca has learned, over the few short weeks she has known Chloe Beale, that personal space is all but lost on her. Especially whenever she has been drinking.

“Uh, nowhere. Just hanging out with Amy,” Beca shrugs nonchalantly, body tensing a little bit. She leans back slightly, though her hands are still held in Chloe’s—not by choice, of course. But Beca also isn’t doing much to fight her off.

She isn’t doing anything about it, in fact.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Chloe chirps brightly, taking a small step back to allow her gaze to sweep unabashedly down Beca’s torso. It rises again soon after, blue eyes a little less focused as they meet with Beca’s. “You make a very cute ghost.”

The music playing around them is the standard, cheesy Halloween Spotify playlist most likely playing throughout the entire country, though the unoriginality doesn’t stop Chloe from releasing one of Beca’s hands to lift the other and twirl her less than gracefully on the spot.

“Whoa, careful,” Beca laughs a little awkwardly, stumbling slightly. She eventually straightens up to face Chloe again, silently thankful for the fact that she didn’t wind up on her butt.

Chloe hums breezily, hips swaying steadily in time with the music. “Are you having fun?”

“Sure,” Beca nods her head in response, only now noticing Chloe’s costume… If it can be called a costume. Honestly, Beca doesn’t actually know what Chloe is wearing, though it is more concerning that Beca has apparently been too focused on Chloe’s face until now to have even bothered to take a glance downward. “Uh…” Beca tilts her head in questioning. “What are you supposed to be?”

At that, a bright grin rises easily to Chloe’s lips, head ducking to take in her own outfit: a short, white, figure-hugging dress with random tears throughout the fabric, and ‘hello, my name is…’ labels spread out at random right the way down the body.

It is only upon closer inspection that Beca notices each label has a different name scrawled messily on it in black sharpie.

“I’m identity theft,” Chloe announces proudly, leaning in again as if to tell Beca the most sacred, most profound of secrets. She taps the tip of Beca’s nose with the end of her pointer, causing Beca to blink in reaction. “It’s a very real, very scary problem, Beca.”

No, Beca still doesn’t particularly want to be here, nor does she want to admit to actually having any fun, but she can’t hold back the abrupt laugh that falls from her lips at that, both amused and honestly nicely surprised by Chloe’s very strange creativity.

“Well, it’s original, I’ll give you that,” Beca nods approvingly, a subtle smirk still playing on her lips.

_“Okay, who’s next?”_

This voice is less familiar. It belongs to some dude from the Trebles that Beca has seen around, but doesn’t exactly know too well—at least not well enough to have learned his name yet, anyway.

His eyes do a quick sweep of the room, before landing right on Chloe. “Chlo,” he grins heartily, “You never say no to Seven Minutes.”

‘Seven Minutes’ must be some game Beca has never heard of before, because she refuses to believe that a group of college students are actually partaking in their own Seven Minutes in—

“Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Chloe chirps, grip loosening on Beca’s hand. Chloe struts quickly forward, only slightly stumbling in the process. Somehow, she remains upright, fingers running coolly through her messy hair as she makes her way toward the open door.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Beca frowns deeply, still in partial disbelief that this is really what they’re doing. Though, the sight of Stacie exiting the room with a satisfied grin on her lips, lipstick entirely misplaced, and straightening out the skirt of her short, skin-tight dress serves as confirmation.

Mostly, Beca finds that she is concerned, because it is more than obvious that Chloe has been drinking. It is obvious that any inhibitions are right out the open window, and someone is about to stick her in a dark room for seven minutes to do whatever with whoever winds up in there with her.

“Wait, hey,” Beca shakes her head quickly, feet moving before she has even really thought about it. She reaches out a hand in an attempt to take Chloe by the arm, though misses entirely. “Dude, you can’t do that. She’s way too drunk.”

Most people aren’t even paying attention, they’re busy enjoying the party, though Chloe spins around on the spot, hand stretching out to catch Beca’s before it falls completely. “I’m fine,” Chloe shrugs, expression light. Beca feels a quick tug to her arm, until she is almost pressed right up against Chloe. Chloe’s increasingly familiar eyes begin to scan over her face. “Come on, you can be my partner.”

Normally, Beca would protest. She would say that this is a dumb game for middle schoolers, and Beca absolutely does not want to play. But she doesn’t, and whether that is because she feels like it’s a losing battle, or whether she knows that if she doesn’t go in there, someone else will, she really doesn’t know. Beca just knows she isn’t fighting as Chloe tugs her eagerly toward the open door, the dude whose name Beca doesn’t know turning toward those around him.

“Guess next up is Chloe and Eyeliner Girl!” He announces loudly to no one in particular, swiftly pushing the door closed behind them. “Seven minutes, Bellas. Have fun.”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven? Seriously?” Beca questions in something akin to disbelief. She stares incredulously at the now closed door for a brief moment, before turning to cast her quizzical gaze on Chloe. Their hands have parted by now, and Beca folds her arms across her middle, looking at Chloe with knitted brows. She takes a second to do a quick visual sweep of the cluttered room, realizing they are in a poorly stocked pantry. “Whoa, and some Heaven it is…”

“You’ve never played before?” Chloe questions. Her head tilts to the side as she eyes Beca unsteadily.

“Well, yeah. When I was, like, thirteen,” Beca frowns, “And last I remembered, people don’t generally choose their own partner.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, a shoulder shrugging lightly, “Well, I chose you.”

Before now, Beca had been a little too focused on trying to wrap her head around how a middle school game was taking place at a college party, and on her own inexplicable worry for a girl she honestly finds kind of annoying most of the time. It hadn’t dawned on her until now that Chloe had literally picked her to come in here with her, and the thought causes Beca to… Well, to _think_.

“Does that freak you out?” Chloe continues almost nonchalantly, hoisting herself pretty easily up onto the empty counter space beside her. How she doesn’t fall is some kind of miracle, and Beca finds that she almost reaches out a hand just in case she needs to catch her. She straightens up again when it becomes quickly clear that her assistance isn’t needed.

Beca is never this helpful, never keeps such a close eye on anybody. The fact that she seems to be putting so much focus on Chloe is kind of strange, entirely out of her character.

But it is also not the first time, Beca remembers. At the last party, Chloe had gotten a little too well acquainted with the liquor table, and Beca had found herself watching periodically from the corner of her eye, even catching Chloe mid-fall on one particularly sloppy occasion.

It is unlike her. It is very unlike her, in fact. Beca isn’t freaked out, not yet. But give her the chance to question it further and maybe she’ll change her mind.

“No,” Beca finally responds, shaking her head shortly. She reaches down to tighten the knotted sleeves of the flannel around her waist, for some reason finding that she needs something to do with her hands, some way to keep herself busy. Her gaze drifts down toward the flannel, too. “Why would it?”

“Because you know what happens in Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Chloe continues just as breezily, her legs swinging lightly where they hang from the counter. “And I wanted to do it with you.”

For the briefest of moments, Beca brings her somewhat startled gaze up to settle on Chloe’s face. She notices the way Chloe is watching her, notices the calm look written across her pale features. It causes Beca to glance back downward, going back to playing distractedly with the sleeves of her flannel again.

“Yeah, well. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing,” Beca shrugs, somewhat awkwardly clearing her throat.

Seriously, what is wrong with her?

“What if I wasn’t?”

“Then I don’t think you would’ve agreed to play Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Beca points out dryly, unable to keep her gaze down any longer. It drifts easily up toward Chloe, to the way her bright eyes still manage to sparkle even in such a dimly lit room, and something about it draws Beca in. She can’t explain it, she can’t put her finger on what exactly it is. Beca just knows there is something interesting about Chloe Beale—something _she_ finds interesting particularly.

And Beca never finds other people interesting. Not unless they’re her favorite musicians, anyway.

“Come over here,” Chloe beckons, arm reaching out toward Beca. Chloe’s fingers curl to motion her closer, and while Beca just stares quizzically for a moment, she soon finds her feet carrying her toward the counter, until Chloe is within touching distance.

She chooses to move no closer, though.

Apparently, Beca’s slight resistance doesn’t go unnoticed, and Chloe responds with a soft giggle, a brief shake of her head that causes her red curls to bob against her shoulders.

“I’m not going to do anything, just come here, I want to tell you something.”

The way Beca moves slightly closer is cautious, it causes Chloe to chuckle under her breath in amusement. A soft hand rests lightly on Beca’s shoulder, before Chloe’s fingers grasp onto her to gently pull her toward her. Soon, Beca is positioned right in front of Chloe, standing right between Chloe’s parted legs. It seems almost wrong to look down, so Beca doesn’t. Then again, looking upward isn’t much better, because her eyes are soon locking with Chloe’s, and something about that scares her. Beca wishes she knew why.

“I have to tell you a secret,” Chloe states, arms rising to wrap loosely around Beca’s neck. She tightens them some, just to pull Beca’s body slightly closer, though she isn’t exactly squeezing onto her, isn’t _forcing_ her in. Beca is moving willingly, whether she wants to admit so or not. Chloe leans in more closely still, face stopping right in front of Beca’s. “You were right,” Chloe whispers, her previously neutral expression cracking into a devilish grin. “I am drunk.”

In spite of herself, in spite of the way staring up at Chloe is beginning to make her sweat inexplicably, Beca can’t help the soft chuckle she lets out in response. Instantly, her body relaxes some.

“Seriously? That’s your secret? Honestly, Chloe, I never would’ve guessed,” Beca teases gently. She doesn’t even realize her palms have settled on the counter either side of Chloe’s legs, not at first.

Chloe responds with a soft smirk, her head shaking once more. Her curls have loosened a little, and Beca wonders why she even cares enough to have noticed. “That’s not the whole secret, no,” Chloe continues, her tone hushing some. “The real secret is that I’m kind of mad that I’m drunk.”

Beca’s head tilts to the side in confusion, a dark brow arching some as she eyes Chloe sitting up on the counter. “Why are you mad about it?”

“Because you’re not gonna kiss me.”

The statement, as brief and as simple as it is, as casually as Chloe says it, causes Beca’s eyes to widen a little bit. Her jaw slackens, though she attempts to pick it back up the moment she registers it.

Chloe, of course, continues just as brightly, just as breezily as before. “And you shouldn’t. That would be weird and probably kind of disrespectful,” she says, nose wrinkling lightly in thought. Her expression straightens out again soon after, though. “But if I wasn’t so drunk, maybe you’d kiss me. And maybe I won’t remember saying this tomorrow, but I want you to.”

Beca doesn’t even know how to respond to that. All she knows is that Chloe has rendered her speechless, and that although she lifts it again quickly, her gaze drops briefly down to Chloe’s lips. They are darkened by the red lipstick she wears to complement her outfit.

“You shouldn’t,” Chloe repeats, bringing one arm from around Beca’s neck to settle long fingers delicately under Beca’s chin. Chloe keeps their gazes locked, and Beca finds that she doesn’t even try to look away.

“I’m not going to,” Beca assures quickly, though her voice is quieter, almost like she isn’t so sure—like she doesn’t have even herself fully convinced.

“I know,” Chloe nods, the corners of her painted lips curving into a softer smile than before. Beca refuses to look at them. “But maybe soon, when I’m not drunk, this is something we can revisit?”

Truthfully, the whole thing has caught Beca off guard. Why would Chloe Beale, arguably the most attractive, probably most sought after girl in the whole of Barden University, want to kiss Beca? Regardless, without thought, Beca finds herself slowly nodding her head. Her wide-eyed gaze drops for the briefest of moments once more toward Chloe’s suddenly inviting lips, before she brings it up again. Beca’s voice is small as she continues. “Okay.” Beca clears her throat, realization setting in. “I mean, yeah. Maybe.”

Normally, Beca would retreat. She’d distance herself into a corner and awkwardly tuck her hair behind her ear or go back to playing with the sleeves of her flannel, but she doesn’t. She stays put, stays where she is standing between Chloe’s parted legs. Chloe’s fingers remain rested delicately underneath her chin, her arm wrapped around Beca’s neck, while Beca’s palms remain flattened against the countertop either side of Chloe’s thighs.

_“Seven minutes, ladies!”_

The voice breaks into the strange stillness in the air, and the expression on the dude’s face as the door swings open is lost on Beca at first. Though, she quickly realizes what he is seeing, why he looks half shocked, half amused by the sight. “Oh, shit,” he chuckles knowingly, unruly brows rising and falling playfully. “Didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Time’s up, though.”

Finally, Beca breaks from their spot, from the strange bubble she has found herself stuck inside with Chloe Beale, to quickly take a step back and wipe her sweaty palms down on the sides of her jeans. “You weren’t interrupting anything,” Beca murmurs with a lack of conviction. Her fingers rise to tuck a chunk of mousy hair behind her ear just as awkwardly as usual.

Chloe hops without grace down from the counter, somehow remaining upright again. She latches her hand easily onto Beca’s, soon tugging her back out toward the party.

“Yeah,” the Treble guy smirks, eyes on them as they pass him by, “Alright then. Who’s next?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com), where I'm always accepting Bechloe prompts!


End file.
